Fragile
by michellemma
Summary: Hermione is spiralling out of control. Her need for control has led to her developing an eating disorder. Her anorexia sees her struggling to just get through the day. She's fragile and vulnerable. Who will help her? Will she recover?


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything sadly. It all belongs to the genius JK Rowling.**

**Warning: This story is about an eating disorder. If you can't handle it I suggest you don't read it.**

This is one of my first fanfictions, so please, no flames, and I would appreciate some feedback if possible.

* * *

It was easy at first. I just didn't eat.

The day I decided I was fat was the day that changed me forever. I remember it clearly. I often think back and wonder if I knew what I was getting myself into. It doesn't matter though. I'm still on my quest; the quest that began that day and which continues to this very minute; my quest to be thin.

Thin. Beautiful. Fragile.

This is what I strive for. This is what I starve for. This is what I concentrate every ounce of energy into achieving.

Sometimes it scares me how much that one decision affected my life.

* * *

Hermione Granger sat on the edge of her bed. She shrank against the authority of the imposing four poster frame; clutching at the quilt. Her hands trembled slightly. The atmosphere was rigid and anxious.

After a couple of minutes, Hermione tensely lifted herself from the mattress and stood, isolated, in the centre of the colossal room in which she was positioned. She continued walking to the edge of the room before halting in front of the gilded mirror that hung on the scarlet wall. Cautiously, Hermione began to study her reflection.

What stared back at Hermione was not agreeable in the slightest – to her, nor to any other observer, though they held differing opinions.

An everyday bystander would immediately recognise the sickly element of her appearance. Her eyes, usually alive and sparkling, were vacant and dull. Her hair, too, lay limply around her face. Most shockingly, Hermione's body appeared emaciated and gaunt. Bones jutted out from her hips, her shoulders, her face, her neck, her legs. Anyone could see there was something wrong with her.

Hermione, however, saw the opposite. What seemed sickly to others, to her, seemed like a symbol of failure. Each line and every crease in her body was an imperfection. The thin layer of skin that still clung to her ribcage was a metaphor for her every disappointment and incompletion. It was not enough. It would never be enough. Not until she had perfection. Not until she was but a bundle of bones. But then it would be too late.

Casting a glance back to the other beds in the room in which the sleeping forms of other Gryffindors still laid, Hermione moved into the bathroom. She shut the door quietly behind her before setting to work.

Her immediate task was of course the scales. It was her daily ritual to weigh herself before proceeding to scrutinise whatever number appeared on the small digital screen. The scales themselves were such a foreign concept to students who came from Wizarding families that she didn't have to worry about their inquiry. They simply passed it off as another silly Muggle contraption.

Now, Hermione stripped off her Pyjamas. Depositing them on the floor, she now stood naked and ready for the impending judgement. This was the moment. This was what would determine her mood and level of satisfaction that those around her would endure in the coming day.

She stepped onto the scales.

Digits moved haphazardly on the screen and it took several seconds for a number to settle.

98 pounds.

'Great,' she thought sarcastically to herself. The number was by no means acceptable to her.

Too big. Always too big. More weight had to go. She wanted the number to be lower, and lower, and lower.

'Nothing but water today. And maybe and apple at breakfast.' Hermione planned her day in her head.

It was going to be a long and exhausting journey through classes before she could finally return to her bed and collapse. Hermione had no time for homework these days... Always too tired, too weary, too drained. Energy was used to merely get through the day.

This was what she began now. As Hermione wrapped a robe around herself and slipped back out into the dormitory to get dressed, she was beginning another of her long, tiring days. She was going through the motions. She was getting through what she could and the rest was in remission.

This was Hermione's life now. This was what that one decision had cost her.

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Thanks for reading the first chapter. I will update the story soon, depending on the response I get.

I hope you enjoyed it!

**M**


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